


The weight it puts on you

by linndechir



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: M/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 17:32:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/pseuds/linndechir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-series: Tig takes a bullet for Clay.<br/>Written for the <a href="http://sentential.livejournal.com/5085.html">SoA comment ficathon</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The weight it puts on you

The first time Tig comes around, Gemma is there, sitting by the bed and holding his hand. He isn't in any pain, but he suspects that's only because he's so full of pain meds that he passes out again before she even notices that he opened his eyes. The second time Bobby is there, mumbling something about how Tig is a careless idiot and that he'll bake him his favourite hash brownies when he gets back home. Tig can also see Chibs and Juice standing by the foot of the hospital bed, both looking worried, Chibs' arm casually slung around Juice's shoulders, and through the haze of the drugs Tig dimly wonders when Chibs and the club's newest member became so inseparable. He's not really in a state to give that any more thought before Bobby's voice lulls him back to sleep.

The third time he wakes up – actually wakes up this time, eyes wide open, more or less conscious – Clay is with him. Sits on the chair where Gemma sat earlier – was that today? yesterday? He has no idea how much time has passed since their little misunderstanding with the Mayans, since those fucking wetbacks started shooting and Tig dived in front of Clay as soon as he heard the first shot.

“Hey,” Tig croaks. Clay looks up, startled, as if he didn't expect him to wake up, then smiles. Tig glances through the room; they're alone.

“Someone with you?” From what he remembers they barely got out of that bar alive, and he doesn't like the idea of Clay going anywhere without someone having his back.

“Chibs is outside,” Clay says. Puts his hand on Tig's shoulder. It feels numb, but it doesn't hurt, and Tig glances down to see that it's actually his other shoulder that got shot. He pokes at it, but Clay swats his hand away.

“Doc says the bullet didn't hit anything vital, you just lost a shitton of blood.” Clay squeezes his uninjured shoulder a little. “How're you feelin', brother?”

“Really fucking high.” Tig grins. “I think they gave me the good stuff.”

Clay's hand moves to Tig's hair, fingers running through the sweaty strands. As numb as Tig's whole body is, he feels that touch with a burning clarity, it's warm and reassuring and he realises that he almost forgot the most important thing.

“Hey, Clay? You okay? Are we whole?” The grin on Clay's face is answer enough.

“Yeah, you're the only idiot who got himself shot.” But the tone in his voice is affectionate, or at least that's what Tig likes to think, because they both know that the only reason Tig got shot at all is because he took a bullet that was meant for Clay. They both know that Tig didn't even hesitate, that stepping between Clay and a loaded gun is as natural to him as taking cover is for any sane person. He doesn't need Clay to thank him for that. It's what Tig does, every time, no questions asked. But that doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate the way Clay's fingers keep combing through his hair, doesn't mean he's not glad Clay is here now.

And then Clay leans down and presses a short, dry kiss to Tig's forehead, all rough lips and coarse stubble and there's really nothing unusual about that, nothing he hasn't done a hundred times before, but Tig is kinda grateful that the morphine has slowed down his system too much for him to get hard from that alone, because there's no way Clay wouldn't notice through the paper-thin hospital gown Tig is wearing. And, yeah, Clay would just laugh it off and call him a weirdo who gets off on getting shot, but still, Tig really doesn't need Clay to start thinking about how little Tig seems to mind sucking him off when they're in prison, let alone realise that Tig wouldn't mind doing it even when they're outside. 'cos your best friend being into you is somewhat more personal than your best friend being into dead girls, and since Tig can't really imagine anything worse than Clay turning away from him, he's really grateful for once that the meds and the blood loss fuck with his body.

“You gonna be okay?” Clay asks when he sits up again. Tig tries to shrug, winces a little. 

“Yeah, I'm good. Just got distracted by your pretty face.”

Clay laughs and flips him off, smacks him lightly over the head before he leaves. Tig tries to peer out when the door opens, can't really see anything, but he hears Chibs' voice, is reassured that Clay didn't lie about not being here alone. But although Tig knows he should trust Chibs and the others to keep Clay safe until he gets out of here, he hates the idea of not being by Clay's side, especially if the Mayans were giving them shit again. He tugs at his bandage, his fingers too clumsy to lift it. With a sigh Tig lets his head sink back onto the pillow. As good as those drugs are, he really hopes he can get out of here soon. Because the others might have Clay's back, but he isn't sure how many of them would really take a bullet for him.


End file.
